Wide Awake
by Thegoh
Summary: Racing against the clock and fighting a god does take its toll. Yusuke may need a little bit of help for that aftermath, especially in the dead of night. Centered around a phone chat, but not a full chat-fic. Mainly friendship, hints of Yusuke/Futaba.


His eyes flew open with a start.

Darting frantically, he scanned his surroundings. The easel stood where it always was, the corner wall covered by neat stacks of unused canvas. A sliver of moonlight shone through the gap in his curtains. A distant bird cawed. No masses of shadows, no frantic screams, no melting away of the fabric of reality.

Absently, he noted that his model rifle was already within his grip.

But the jolt had been so strong, so _real_-

He squeezed his eyes shut. Inhale, exhale. He focused on the rush of air within his nostrils. He let the air fill his lungs which had felt like collapsing mere moments before. The images, raw and violent continued to flash across his mind. His ears began to fill with piercing screams, crashing through the stillness of the room. Bile surged to his throat, and his chest tightened.

He grasped at the curtains and flung them open, flooding the darkened room with beams of silver.

No blood rained from the sky.

_I'm safe. _

No massive looming bones overhead.

_I'm safe._

The full and brightly lit moon hung alone on a clear blanket of navy.

_I'm safe._

Only then did his heart begin to slow.

Groaning, Yusuke lowered himself onto the bed, laying his rifle at his side. This was the third time this month that he had woken in such a manner.

The dreams were never fully the same. Sometimes the blood drizzled lightly, piercing his skin in small spots like needles. Other times the blood poured down in literal torrents, flooding and sweeping him away as he melted into the unforgiving flow. Sometimes he would see his fellow Thieves wash away alongside him, other times he would be plunged under a sea of red alone.

But every time, he would be fearfully clawing at his own face, desperately reaching for a mask only for his fingers to scar his own skin. His body would be tossed about, his weakened limbs finding no purchase. If he opened his mouth to scream, the blood would flood in and stifle his only cry.

But even if he could utter anything, it would go unanswered.

"Susano-O!"

Nothing.

The loss of the Metaverse was a good thing. The place was a source of mass apathy, governed by a sick god's notion of salvation. There was no place in the world for such a selfish and sadistic being. The destruction of such a twisted Palace could thus only be a good thing. The removal of an avenue that could be abused as a tool to destroy the lives of others was no doubt a net positive.

But the loss of Kamu Susano-O? Not that great.

Goemon, and later Susano-O, was like a ray of light that illuminated his understanding. Though unable to manifest in the real world, he had acted like a dispassionate voice of reason in his mind. He helped peel away the layers of lies he told himself and others. His presence in the Metaverse exuded power, and was the embodiment the cold rationality needed to discern between the duality of human nature. His visage was a testament to his nature as a god of storms, a reminder that despite the chaos behind the conflicting natures of humans, it was himself – well his other self – that wielded the power to control it and carve a path through the tumult; through a flash of lightning to illuminate the way or crash of thunder to silence the noise.

At least, that was how he grew to understand the symbolism of his Persona. Or perhaps, how his experiences with Madarame and art had shaped his understanding of himself and thus his own Persona too.

Knowing that Susano-O was present, knowing that he himself held that power to fight against the weight of society's greed and apathy had been a massive driving force for Yusuke. It was what kept him level headed while operating with the Thieves, and what made him a formidable foe in the face of a myriad of shadows. That symbol gave him strength to look a slothful god in the eye and reject his ideals.

But the lead up to that confrontation had been the greatest test of his endurance and willpower.

He still remembered his knees buckling at the sight of seeing blood rain from the sky. How his head pounded in pain as his body dissolved into the pooling red liquid. The absolute alien dread that ate at him as he moved atop massive bones. The stress of evading shadows as the screams of the masses filled his ears.

The climb had been arduous, and every one of the Thieves felt it. They had barely passed 2 major levels of the twisted stairway of bones when the fatigue of fighting waves of shadows had begun to set in. The advance party of himself, Joker, Queen and Mona had slowed significantly in pace, resorting to sneaking past the shadows rather than confronting them. Their rear guard consisting of Skull, Panther and Noir were having difficulty keeping up as the shadows constantly shifted their positions. Oracle hovered overhead between both groups, focused on keeping tabs on the Thieves and scanning their immediate surroundings. Low on energy and nursing bruises from constant dodging and several near misses, Yusuke's limbs burned as he traversed the bony landscape. The vast expanse was unsettling as it was open; the Thieves could barely pause for breath without risking detection by a shadow lurking ahead or catching up from behind. Drawing ragged breaths, he forced himself onward by Joker's side.

_One foot forward. _He told himself. _One step more._

The air continued to fill with terrified howls progressively being drowned by the sea of blood and shadows.

_Keep moving._

The scent of singed flesh seared his nostrils.

_Forward._

Drops of red pelted against his ivory mask.

Joker signalled for a pause as they approached a new bony stairwell, and he felt his legs buckle.

Queen shot her arm forward before his chin could smash against the steps.

"Fox!" Oracle gasped, her voice ringing clear in his muddled ears.

"I... I can keep going." He grunted; voice strained. His vision swam slightly at the sudden imbalance.

"Fox…" Mona threw him a worried glance. It would have been a comical sight with his cartoonishly large and ornate scimitar slung over his tiny shoulders, but the artist could barely manage a grin. Mona drew himself upwards, ready to draw upon a healing spell.

_We can't stop here now._

"Save your energy for emergencies. I'm… not down yet." He pushed his legs against the ground, but the tremor that shot up his muscles stopped them short. Slumping forward, he settled for a high kneel.

Joker's voice was low but tense. "It will turn into an emergency if you keep going like that." Steel grey eyes locked on his own, and he shuddered at the slight panic that laced his leader's features.

He couldn't blame him. They were racing against an unseen clock; who knew how much time they had left?

"You're in no position for this right now. Oracle?" Queen asked tersely, arms still looped under his own and holding him steady. Her deep red eyes were narrowed, focused on keeping the group alive and within reasonable fighting shape. It looked like a cold response, but he knew better. Her strategic advice had kept the worst of problems at bay thus far, but the trek was turning ridiculous. The shadows that prowled this hellscape were ludicrously strong, and grew in number as they ascended up the levels. Every encounter – some against twisted angelic beings no less – was a hair-raising one, and whatever that was deftly evaded left them with a lingering fear of being caught in a pincer. Strategy would quickly turn into desperation if there wasn't at least someone keeping a cool head.

Prometheus, who had been watching the rear guard, now hovered over the advance group protectively as the rear guard caught up with the group.

"Inar- Fox! Your energy levels are getting low! And why aren't you taking heals?"

"Oracle, status!" Queen pressed. The stairwell provided some cover, but they were still too exposed for her liking. The shadows behind would be upon them anytime.

"U-uh okay! The path ahead leads to another strong one, and the rear guard is getting tired too."

"How's supplies?" Skull asked gruffly, wordlessly looping his arm under Fox's other free arm. The biker teen was drenched in sweat, and Fox could feel a distinct tremor in his grip as he tugged the exhausted artist upwards. With 2 points of support, the artist managed to rise to his feet despite his trembling legs. Skull automatically altered his posture, and the artist found himself moved to lean more on him than on their strategist. Queen unconsciously let out a breath as the weight shifted.

Vulgar and dense as he could be, it was times like these that made her immensely glad for Skull's presence.

"Not as much as I would like." Joker answered; brows furrowed in displeasure. He turned towards the hovering navigator. "How many levels are left?"

Oracle growled. "I can't tell. Something is _still_ jamming my long-range scanning, and I can't fly high enough without risking becoming exposed."

"Can Panther make the heal?" Noir proposed, grimacing as she shifted her grenade launcher to her hip. It seemed that the last fight had not been kind to her.

The red-clad girl shook her head dejectedly. "I'm low; switching out from the last fight hasn't helped."

"And as much as I hate to admit it, Queen and I aren't doing so hot either." Mona added. "We've been trying to save what's left of our healing for combat."

"Then we make a tactical retreat." Queen decided. "Joker, you mentioned a checkpoint at the base right?"

Skull's eyes nearly bugged out of his mask. "You're seriously suggesting we _backtrack_? After all those shadows we left behind?"

"What other choice do we have? Going forward as we are now is suicide."

Tearing off her mask, Queen summoned Anat for one final heal for the party. The spell washed over the artist like a cool wave, a comforting brush of a fresh breeze. A welcome sensation against the heat and stench of the surroundings. It was definitely not enough – the heals during long combat were never quite enough – but it was at least able to close the wounds that marred his body and take away some of the burn in his limbs.

Next to him, Skull let out a small sigh of relief and his grip strengthened slightly.

Queen felt the last of her reserves fizzle out as Anat dissolved back into her metal mask.

"Are you sure about this? We may still get into fights on the way back." Mona asked.

"Then we will be counting on you Mona." Was her chilling reply.

But despite the knowledge of the layout as they headed back, the fear still tingled on his own skin like electricity. Shadows were still emerging and moving swifter than ever, making the retreat more terrifying than the ascension.

He probably could still let out a blow or two, if things got hairy. But any more and he would turn into dead weight. And if the shadows targeted him because of that, that would throw their own formations into disarray.

And put everyone in danger.

He ground his teeth.

He hated being the weak link. It made him feel useless, helpless; like a child trying to fight against a corrupted world.

_But that is what we have gained the strength to do. Remember your conviction. You are no longer a bird in a cage._

And there it was, Susano-O's voice ringing clear. He pushed himself forward again.

_Just one step more._

The battle was eventually won, and the world restored itself to a renewed version of itself. Twisted men paid their dues, justice was served and their leader finally exonerated.

No more other world, no more racing against the clock, no more hair-raising fights to the death.

Now, it was just him, his canvas, and the remainder of his life to pursue his original passion with a renewed sense of hope.

For a while, Yusuke Kitagawa enjoyed the quiet.

But if he was being completely honest, the quiet was at times unsettling.

Like a clueless soldier who found himself back at the barracks long after the war had ended, Yusuke more often than not found himself doing unexplainable things. He would at times be found sitting at his easel; mind as blank as his canvas. He would gravitate towards Shibuya some days, while totally avoiding it on others. His dorm room, once unadorned by anything that wasn't an art-related, begun to be populated by fox-themed décor. He ensured his model katana and rifle remained in good condition, and dutifully checked them daily. He even painstakingly took time to sculpt a replica of his trademark ivory mask, surprising his peers who rarely saw him break away from his easel for anything.

He knew that it was no longer necessary to have these things. He knew that it was senseless to suddenly avoid Shibuya station. He knew his days at Kosei were drawing to an end, and thus his focus to produce his next piece was crucial.

But if one asked him why he was doing such things, he found himself at a loss for words. The reasons would flee to the edges of his consciousness.

Then the dreams started. He tried reorganising his workload to ease his stress. The dreams continued. He went to bed with calming music. The dreams remained. On a whim, he moved his rifle, katana and mask near his bed. The dreams persisted still.

And this time, there was no voice ringing clear in his ears.

Groaning, he left the window and sat on his bed.

Retrieving his phone, he opened the chat app. 2 am.

He could try to text Akira. He was and still is a great listener and confidant. Of all people, he would be the most understanding of such a sensation. His loss was probably greater than all of theirs combined. Was he having the same dreams as he was? Was he also dealing with a silence that couldn't be filled?

Yusuke shoved the idea out of his mind. It would be downright rude to wake someone up at such an hour. Who in their right mind would still be awake anyway?

His phone buzzed.

**Futaba:** what are u doing up Inari?

_Of course. _Suppressing a grin, he typed out his reply.

**Yusuke:** I could ask you the same. How did you know I was awake?

Her reply took barely a second.

**Futaba:** u serious? Ur status literally says that u are online.

Yusuke let out a light chuckle. He could already hear the girl's unimpressed drawl in his head while sporting a disappointed look. In his defence, he did only learn of the status portion of the app recently, and the shock of waking so suddenly had not completely worn off.

He returned to the conversation, deftly keying in his response.

**Yusuke:** Regardless, it still does not answer the question of why you are awake. Don't you have school?

It had been nary a few weeks since the new school year had started. Futaba had been a real trooper, deciding to enrol and re-enter the school system. Ryuji and Ann had both offered to bring her to class and coach her, but Futaba had vehemently refused. She wanted to do her first day right under her own power, in the name of claiming the most experience points where possible.

"My first quest is to make a self-introduction without any help!"

A valiant but doable goal, the blondes decided, and they dutifully stepped aside to let her ascend the stairs to her classroom alone.

The fact that they trailed after her anyway and ended up fashionably late to their own classes need not be discussed.

Ears to the wall, they heard her give her introduction. While not as smooth as they liked, it had been decent. She had practiced multiple times with them both after all. Sharing a look, the blondes gave each other a small smile.

She was off to a good start.

Her freezing up seconds later because of the homeroom teacher's sudden question about hobbies? Not so good.

Predictably, she reported a near KO at the end of the first period. That had resulted in two blondes seniors descending on her classroom within minutes, much to the protest of their own teachers.

Ryuji and Ann quickly took it upon themselves to be her bodyguards, making full use of their different time-tables to keep watch over her.

Sure, always getting seen walking by a classroom that wasn't theirs and taking more than several toilet breaks did get them in some trouble, but Kawakami's intervention had managed to keep them both in the clear.

Even without his presence, Akira's influence still had a tangible impact and reach.

With her personal bodyguards and cheerleaders at her side, she had managed to adjust to school life relatively quickly.

**Futaba:** if u must know, im tinkering with some code. Besides ive already studied everything they r covering.

**Yusuke:** And that somehow excuses the need for sleep?

**Futaba:** sleep is for the weak! Besides, this idea has been stuck in my head for a while.

_So, inspiration then? _That was something he can surely relate to.

Before he could ask further, another chat bubble appeared.

**Futaba:** and don't think ur getting away with avoiding the question Inari. Its not like u to be up this late.

Was it not? He had pulled several all-nighters in the past, even while operating as a Phantom Thief. Inspiration shouldn't be ignored after all.

His phone buzzed again.

**Futaba:** and I know its not cuz of inspiration or an upcoming deadline.

**Yusuke:** Oh?

**Futaba:** u would have said so otherwise and gone into crazy detail about the new theme on your mind.

That… was true.

For a girl who had spent a large portion of her recent growing years devoid of actual social interaction, Futaba was scarily accurate at reading others. Perhaps it was a result of her ability to work with patterns and structure; something inherent in the language of coding. Familiarity with such a language made her more sensitive to noticing patterns; something which could easily translate to better people observational skills.

Should he tell her what was going on? While certainly not mean spirited, she was not exactly the most gentle and well-mannered among the Thieves. Her sarcasm and penchant for snarky comments could be very abrasive at times; Yusuke could no longer count how many times the two have bickered whenever they were in each other's presence. Much as he tried, it was just impossible to ignore her remarks; especially since he was certain she was looking at things the wrong way. And even if she was correct, something about her tone would flip a switch in him and goad him to respond.

Ann had once said that they were surprisingly alike; two Thieves with an unflinching bluntness and drive when presenting their opinion.

Futaba had snorted at that, claiming she was nowhere as abrasive as Inari.

Yusuke had retorted, saying that he was nowhere as obstinate.

That had sparked a whole different argument, causing them both to be temporarily banned from the group chat due to spam. The fact that Futaba managed to tear down the ban by hacking her way back into the chat was deemed irrelevant.

With fatigue and shock fraying his mind, the artist was in no mood to handle another round of snarky combat via text.

But was she trustworthy? Definitely. He had on many occasions, trusted her with his life. Metaphysical or not, the Metaverse was a place fraught with danger. And she had, on many occasions, saved him from otherwise fatal blows or dire situations.

She was not one to refuse lending a helping hand. That Yusuke could say with absolute confidence.

With a renewed sense of assurance, he typed out his reply.

**Yusuke:** It was not my intention to avoid your question. I… just didn't know how to word it properly.

**Futaba:** okay, shoot.

He took his time to word his response.

It was surprisingly difficult.

**Yusuke:** I've been having trouble sleeping lately.

Again, the reply was immediate.

**Futaba:** hunger? Lord knows ur diet still needs work.

He felt the switch in his head threaten to flip.

**Yusuke:** In my defence it has improved significantly. I have stuck closely to the regime Makoto and Sojiro have given me. But that is beside the point.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

What was he really trying to achieve here?

It was just nightmares, he reasoned. Everyone had them, sometimes with consistent frequencies. Somehow, with the brunt of the adrenaline wearing off, he wondered if it made sense to make such a big deal out of it. He had plenty of nightmares as a child, and Madarame had always told him that those were nothing to be concerned with. His art, as he would always be reminded, was of greater importance.

But those nightmares were sometimes recurring too. Scenes of a woman in seizing up in pain, convulsing on the floor before him. Said woman fading before he could ever reach her. Sensations of being trapped in a cage on death row, and at one point, somehow appearing as a printer being whipped by a gaudy taskmaster.

In hindsight, those were clearly manifestations of his suppressed fears and frustrations. But they never really had that much of an impact on his daily living. In fact, those even managed to serve as points of inspiration for some of his pieces. And once he managed to use them to inject life into his brushstrokes, the dreams eventually faded.

So why was tonight's dream so much more bothersome?

He knew he was not the most… normal compared to others. What if this was one of those times where he was "not getting it" or "being too Inari-like"? What if this really was like all those other nightmares, which would eventually fade away? Then it wouldn't make sense to make such a big deal about them.

His tired gaze fell upon the model rifle next to him.

It was no different from how a stuffed animal functioned for a child he supposed. And that comparison irked him far more than he would have liked.

**Futaba:** earth to Inari? Ur not even typing anymore!

**Futaba:** Don't you dare tell me u fell asleep!

The switch flipped.

**Yusuke:** If I recall, you're the one who falls asleep mid-conversations quite frequently.

**Yusuke:** And if I truly did fall asleep, how would sending that message change anything for you?

A lightning fast reply.

**Futaba:** not the damn point Inari!

**Futaba:** look if u don't want to talk, then just say it!

**Futaba:** quit beating around the bush and blue-ticking me in such a manner!

Cursed curiosity got the better of him.

**Yusuke:** What does "blue ticking" mean?

**Futaba:** argh, it hurts that u can even ask such a question.

This was clearly not where he wanted to be, but somehow his responses just kept coming out much faster than he anticipated. As if his fingers were possessed, moving to write the things he thought of rather than the things he wanted to say. Shaking himself, he refocused on to the matter at hand.

**Yusuke:** I am just having a lot of trouble organising my thoughts.

A deep breath.

He really needed to stop letting his switches flip so easily. And also, to stop finding whatever chance he had to stall.

Perhaps she would have a small cackle at his expense, or she would launch into a short spiel about how his thinking was flawed – punctuated by a few choice eye-rolls – but that was the worst she would do. She was ultimately a fellow Thief and trusted teammate, even if that team no longer physically existed. And if he were honest, she was probably the closest one next to Akira whom he could actually hold a deeper conversation with.

Not that the others were slouches in the care department. But the long-haired hacker was just somehow able to keep up with him, no matter how many times she expressed that she wished she couldn't.

If his time with the Phantom Thieves had shown him anything, it was that it was far, far better to trust in each other than to tackle a problem alone. His time suffering under Madarame had cemented that.

Nonetheless, he should probably still pick his words carefully to ensure no misunderstandings.

His fingers moved across the screen.

**Yusuke:** I've been having recurring nightmares. I'm drowning, and the others are too. There are shadows everywhere, and there is red raining from the sky. I can't fight at all, and I wake up in cold sweat clutching my rifle.

**Yusuke:** I know it's just a dream, but it just feels so real that I can't stop it.

No reply.

No typing indicator either.

His eyes flicked to the top of the chat screen. "Online".

Breathing turning heavy, His fingers curled tighter around his phone.

The curtains fluttered, the fabric slapping lightly against the walls. He heard the distant meows of the neighbourhood strays that have wandered into the campus. The clock on the opposite wall ticked sharply with a smooth and persistent rhythm.

And yet, the silence was crushing.

Perhaps it really was a mistake to talk about it.

A buzz.

**Futaba:** … I can relate

**Futaba:** it's just like back then, before u guys saved me.

He felt his heart lurch.

**Yusuke:** I didn't mean to stir up unwanted memories.

**Futaba:** no, don't worry. I can handle it now.

**Futaba:** my hallucinations and dreams back then felt so real that they crippled me.

**Futaba:** but don't feel stupid. The mind can play some mean tricks on us, but that doesn't mean they're any less painful.

He let out a shaky breath.

**Yusuke: **It has been extremely unpleasant for me.

**Futaba:** I can imagine. How often has this been happening?

**Yusuke:** It's been like this for a few weeks. Some nights are peaceful, but the nightmares seem to come every few days.

Yet another pause.

**Futaba:** maybe u wanna see a doc for this? Like, the one near Leblanc.

**Futaba:** it sounds weird I know, but it cant hurt to have some medical help for ur sleep.

He hadn't considered that possibility. He let out a sigh; it seemed that he still had much to learn about matters outside of art.

**Yusuke:** I… have not considered that as an avenue. It's just nightmares.

**Futaba:** sleep deprivation is a real medical issue, regardless of cause.

He was tempted to point out the irony of her statement on sleep deprivation given the ungodly hours that she slept at, but he held his tongue – well fingers really – as she sent yet another message.

**Futaba:** besides what u gotta lose? Cant hurt to have a doc's opinion.

He hesitated as he instinctively calculated the money for train fare and potential doctor fees. With his final submission coming, it was crucial to spare some funds for emergency paints and other supplies.

**Futaba:** oh come on! The doc is Akira's friend and she's been giving me and Sojiro discounts. I'm sure she wont mind doing u a favour. And I'll pay for your fees so u don't have to touch ur supply stash sheesh.

He huffed in mirth; she truly did know him well.

**Yusuke:** Then pray tell, where would you get the money from?

**Futaba:** I have my sources Inari.

**Yusuke:** I will not take advantage of Sakura-san's bank account.

**Futaba:** I have side income!

The lanky boy raised an eyebrow.

**Futaba:** … I swear I know u just gave me a look. I provide coding tutorials on a website.

**Futaba:** which is perfectly legit if I might add!

He felt a warmth spread over his chest as he broke into light chuckles. His voiced sounded gravelly, and his throat itched slightly due to dryness. Nonetheless, it was a welcome feeling against the stillness of his room.

**Yusuke:** I appreciate the gesture Futaba. I really do. Thank you.

Her reply took a little longer this time.

**Futaba: **so u better come down.

**Futaba:** and if u hesitate anymore or bail im telling Makoto.

He felt a brief jolt of unease.

**Yusuke: **That would be excessive and completely unnecessary.

**Futaba:** good :3

His phone buzzed and a notification window slid into view. It indicated a new entry into his calendar app for the upcoming day labelled: Doc appointment at 4pm where I know you are definitely free (on pain of death-by-Makoto).

**Yusuke:** I am not even going to ask how you did that.

**Futaba:** Alibaba strikes again mwehehe

Eyes sliding to the top corner of the phone, Yusuke took note of the time. 3:30 am. His eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, and whatever tension he had started with was now nowhere to be felt.

**Futaba:** I'll sweeten the deal. Come by after seeing the doc and I'll have Sojiro treat u to some curry and coffee.

**Yusuke:** I certainly will not turn down such an offer. It will be good to see the Sayuri.

**Futaba:** :)

**Futaba:** well, I hope u feel better soon.

**Yusuke:** Talking with you has definitely helped. I think I might be able to return to sleep after this.

The typing indicator lingered for a while.

**Futaba:** yeah. So uh.

**Futaba:** are u intending to go sleep now?

**Yusuke:** I have taken up enough of your time. And may I remind you again that we both have school tomorrow.

**Futaba: **:/

**Yusuke:** I have no idea what that is even supposed to mean.

**Futaba:** fine, I'll stop and go sleep too, u happy?

**Yusuke:** That would be a wise decision.

Returning his phone to the side table, he eased himself of his bed. Stretching his arms upwards, he heard the satisfying popping of joints as a wave of relief washed over his tensed shoulders. Pulling his curtains shut, the room plunged once again into darkness.

But this time, the darkness was much less foreboding.

Courtesy drew him back to the phone as he typed out one last message before plopping onto his bed.

**Yusuke:** Thank you once again Futaba. Good night and see you tomorrow.

Sleep overtook him before he could note the delayed buzzing of his phone.

**Futaba:** Good night Inari.

\- this message was deleted -

**Futaba:** Good night to you too. See you.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed this short story!**


End file.
